


What Do Soldiers Do After the War?

by Hannings



Series: After the War [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Closure, F/F, F/M, Family, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Late Night Conversations, Loss, M/M, Peace, Politics, Post-Canon, Post-Golden Deer Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-War, Rebuilding, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27416959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannings/pseuds/Hannings
Summary: A series of short freeform narratives tangentially connected to each other, telling the journeys different playable characters undertake to readjust to a life of peace. Some seek closure, others belonging. Some must let go of the war, while others fight on.
Relationships: Alois Rangeld/Alois Rangeld's Wife, Annette Fantine Dominic & Mercedes von Martritz, Cyril/Lysithea von Ordelia, Dorothea Arnault/Manuela Casagranda, Edelgard von Hresvelg/Petra Macneary, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Series: After the War [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2003125
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23





	1. Ferdinand von Aegir - Grief I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferdinand grapples with his own conflicting feelings.

The war was over. Ferdinand could hardly believe it. Here they were, in Derdriu, celebrating the end of it all. Everyone was wearing whatever beautiful garments had survived the war, champagne flutes in hand.

Ferdinand remembered fondly the parties that his father had thrown when he was Prime Minister. Although this one felt weightier, and for good reasons too.

He supposed that the world could perhaps go back to normal again. All these years, Ferdinand had the war to carry him forward. Even though he was the enemy of everything that he believed in, everything he loved, fighting carried him on. In an odd way, the steady progression of war had distracted him from the reality of all he was doing. It had distracted him that Hubert had died.

“Ferdie?” A familiar tinkling approached.

“Dorothea! How splendid it is to see you again. I thought you would have returned to Enbarr already.”

“And miss the party? Never.” Dorothea smiled, her eyes were sparkling again.

“That is good. Many of our friends have left already.”

“Oh, it’s just Caspie and Lin. They were itching to go long before the war ended.”

“I suppose that is true.” Ferdinand fell silent again, observing the ballroom filled with familiar faces and carefree smiles.

“Well, I’ve talked to everyone here already. So I was wondering, would you like to join a little private party with Bernadetta, Petra, and myself?”

“I am not sure it would be right for me step away. I am the new,” Ferdinand detested that word, “Duke Aegir.” It wasn’t just Hubert, of course. It was also Father.

“Well, Duke. Seeing as the queen herself already retired to her chambers, I see no reason why you should stick around too.”

“Ah! Queen Byleth has already left? No one informed me! There are many pressing matters I must discuss with her!”

Dorothea giggled, her earrings and bracelets jangling as she hid her mirth. “Oh, Ferdie. It’s a party! No one’s here to talk shop. I just wanted to slip away after showing off my new gown. It’s specialty made, you know.”

“How did you get the time?” Ferdinand gaped, scanning over Dorothea’s dress. It had a similar mermaid cut to her gremory gown, but it was a brighter hue of red, made of a shinier material. The lacework was unmistakably Bernadetta’s. He wondered idly what had happened to that flower she had gifted Hubert.

“Now that’s a secret between me and my seamstress.” Then Dorothea put her hands on her hips and leaned towards Ferdinand. “Well? Are you coming or not?”

“I suppose…” He smiled awkwardly. “If even Queen Byleth has left, there is no reason for me to stay.” Then Ferdinand caught a glimpse of dull blue. “Lorenz! I must greet Count Gloucester at once. It would not do to…”

But Dorothea was dragging him away. Dragging him away from duty and what few things could keep him busy at the moment. Once the party was over, there would be plenty for him to do as Duke Aegir. At the moment, however, there was only whatever “private” affair Dorothea had planned. Ferdinand doubted it would be enough to keep his mind off everything.

When they arrived at a secluded patio, Petra and Bernadetta were already uncorking bottles of wine and sampling the contents. It was rather… un-noble of them to do so. But for old friends, Ferdinand was willing to make an exception.

“Dorothea! Ferdinand!” Petra ran to wrap both of them in warm embraces. The weight of her body was something Ferdinand wished would never leave. “We were thinking that you have… Err, you were lost.”

“Yeah, what took you so long?”

Ferdinand was surprised by how calm Bernadetta sounded. Perhaps liquor calmed her nerves?

“Oh, it took some time to drag Ferdie away. He was going to talk shop with everyone. And I mean, everyone.”

“Talk shop? I am not understanding the meaning…”

“She means talking about official noble business.” The man sighed and sank into one of the dainty chairs. “But of course, Dorothea is right. It would be in poor taste for me to pester everyone with official proceedings at a party. Coming out of a war, it is hard to believe we have so much time.”

“We do have time.” Dorothea agreed. When she said it, she had a small smile on her lips, as though time was something she had always wanted, instead of dreaded.

“I didn’t feel like we had a whole lot of time when we were making your dress…” Bernadetta grumbled. Yet Bernadetta was also happy, admiring her own handiwork.

“It was an emergency!”

Ferdinand could imagine Linhardt telling Dorothea to define emergency. He could also imagine Edelgard laughing. If she had been here, she would have laughed. And Hubert watching over them all, smiling darkly, but sincerely.

“I have agreement! Dresses in Fódlan are complicated and have many meanings. They are like tattoos in Brigid. Each person must be similar, yet unique. Edelgard once said…” Then she faltered.

The energy in the room, which was merry if subdued, lost its sparkle entirely. Bernadetta looked down, swirling the amber liquid in her glass. Dorothea reached out and touched Petra’s hand.

“It’s a shame it turned out this way. Edie was my friend too.”

“Edelgard was more than friend, Edelgard was--!” Petra cut herself off, looking away pointedly.

Dorothea’s eyes widened, then softened. “Oh, Petra. I had no idea.”

“No one knew of my pain.” The proud princess of Brigid looked out over the escarpment. In the distance, there were fireworks. “But it was necessary. Edelgard had to be defeated.”

“I know what you mean.” Ferdinand spoke. If nothing else, he wished to comfort Petra. He understood the pain of her loss all too well, though her fierce conviction he could never hope to emulate.

Dorothea’s soft hand wrapped around his as well.

For a little while, the four of them were silent, listening to the merrymaking of the people below, and the oohs and ahs that accompanied each pop of firework.

“Dagdan technology. Never thought I’d see the day.” Shamir materialized, already standing against the railing.

“A-ah! Sha-sha-shamir! W-where did you come from?”

“The party.” She paused. “I didn’t want to watch Catherine fall over drunk, so I came here to enjoy the view.” A raucous laugh and glass smashing sounded below. “That’s her.”

Petra cracked a smile. She placed Dorothea’s hand back into her lap and stood next to Shamir.

“Do not be drinking until the birds call! Otherwise you will have a crack in your head!”

Shamir looked at her, eyes wide. Ferdinand himself was surprised. What kind of cryptic advice was that?

“It is Brigid wisdom.” Petra smiled back at him. She seemed to be handling everything better than he was. Although Ferdinand knew that she was foreign royalty, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of competitiveness.

“You’re smiling again, busy bee.” A sing-song voice crooned. Ferdinand still was not convinced he understood why he was a busy bee, but his cheeks warmed in response.

“There’s a saying in Dagda too.” Shamir responded, quite a few beats too late. “Don’t let your partner’s bow weigh you down.”

Everyone puzzled over it for a moment. While they were thinking, Dorothea had withdrawn her hands. Ferdinand wished he could be wrapped in them a little longer.

“Why would your partner’s bow weigh you down…?” Bernadetta stuttered out at last.

“Because he’s dead.”

“O-oh. Um…”

Petra nodded sagely. “It is ritual in Brigid to bring back weapon of allies if their body cannot be found.”

“For burial.” Ferdinand supplied. He supposed Brigid, Dagda, and Fódlan had much in common. Although such practice had long been abandoned in Fódlan, likely for the same reasons Dagda had an adage for it.

“Precisely.”

“B-but, how does that? Um, what?”

Dorothea took Ferdinand’s hand again and squeezed it.

“I heard you talking about the late emperor. And her crow.”

The thought of Hubert resting on Edelgard’s shoulder as a crow sent Ferdinand into hysterics. Shamir looked back, alarmed. He couldn’t help himself though, the thought was just too much. Before he knew it, he was sobbing pathetically into Dorothea’s hand, drinking in the sickly sweet perfume of roses. He could hear Dorothea shushing him soothingly, her hand petting his hair. Oh, how wretched was he to be crying into the hand of a beautiful maiden like so. How Hubert would laugh. So this was what became of the great Ferdinand von Aegir. A pitiful, bawling mess.

A strong calloused hand took his. “We must put down the burden, Ferdinand. It is necessary for us to keep living.”

“You’re a useless soldier if you’re dead.” Shamir stated. “Take care of the living before the dead.”

Ferdinand was sniffling, struggling to stop getting snot all over Dorothea’s bracelets. “Yes, of course. You are correct.”

“Good.”

“It’s okay to mourn the dead though, Ferdie.” He could hear the pity in her voice. “The war’s over. We’re allowed to mourn.”

“Y-yeah! I mean, all of us have lost something.”

“I do not have understanding. What Shamir said is correct. We must be carrying on if we wish to live.” She kissed the back of Ferdinand’s hand. A sweet, though incomprehensible gesture. “Edelgard is gone. Hubert is gone.”

An uncontrolled sob burst from Ferdinand’s throat. Oh goddess, he was covering Dorothea’s hand in spit.

Petra kissed his hand again. “But we are living. And since we are living, we must be making the most of it.”

“To honour their sacrifice!” Bernadetta quipped.

“I’m not sure.” Dorothea’s hand was rubbing his back now, a gentle, soothing gesture. It made the hiccupping in his chest die down a little. “I think it’s okay to take things at your own pace. When the war started, I was completely beside myself. I worked to save all my troupe members and tried to look after war orphans. By the time the professor came back I was completely drained. I had forgotten just how… devastated I was. That Edie could do such a thing. I was so… sad.”

“No, no, I am all right.” Ferdinand put Dorothea’s hand down, taking out his handkerchief to wipe at her hand, then his face. “I have much work to do, as Duke Aegir. Although I am Prime Minister no more, it is still my duty to maintain the well-being of the Coast of Adrestia.”

Green eyes looked at him sadly. Warrior eyes bore through his soul. And a memory of hazel-green eyes widening in shock, then glazing over repeated over and over in his mind.

Ferdinand squeezed his eyes shut. He was Duke Aegir of the newly formed United Kingdom of Fódlan. He had work to do tomorrow, and it would not do to tarry.

“Ladies,” the paladin stood ram-rod straight, dabbing at his eyes once more. “I must take my leave, for it is quite late.” He paused, taking a deep breath of nighttime air and spoke again. “I bid you good night.”

Petra and Dorothea looked at him, then at each other, letting the sounds of the party take the space of their silence. Bernadetta, after a beat, stuttered, “G-good night, Ferdinand! I’ll uh… See you soon?”

With a curt nod that only a noble could execute without being rude, Ferdinand strode back to his bedroom in Derdriu to sleep, and to dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say? I'm a sucker for a crying femboi who takes himself far too seriously. 
> 
> (I love Ferdinand though)


	2. Ferdinand von Aegir - Grief II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferdinand does political shenanigans.

When Ferdinand strode into Byleth’s office the next morning, her face looked so disappointed that he wondered if he’d done something wrong. His effort to conceal his hurt must have been less than opaque, since Byleth quickly readjusted her face, smoothing into a soothing smile.

“Good morning, Ferdinand.”

“Good morning, Your Majesty.” Ferdinand bowed deeply. Yes, that must have been it. He had neglected to bow, which was what was expected of a formal greeting. It seemed that Byleth had some understanding of nobility after all.

The queen was walking to her table, which was covered in all manners of paperwork already. She was quickly straightening them out, seeming to understand where each leaflet belonged at a single glance. Hubert would have never allowed his table to become this way, Ferdinand mused.

“How can I help you, Duke Aegir?” A glint of mischief sparkled in Byleth’s eyes, but the title was said with warmth.

“Actually, I had some ideas on the political structure of Fódlan, Your Majesty.” Ferdinand added the title, lest he upset the queen once more.

“Oh?” Byleth ceased her efficient shuffling of paper and glanced at the chair in front of her table.

Taking a seat, Ferdinand gladly continued. “Yes. I believe it best that each noble house maintains rule over their land instead of a complete restructuring. After all that the emp—Uh, that is to say, Edelgard, has done, I believe stability will be greatly appreciated by the people.”

A smile graced the queen’s lips. “I see.”

“So you agree?”

“What you’re suggesting is the exact opposite of what Sylvain suggested.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” The blank gaze unnerved Ferdinand. But that was Byleth. She meant nothing by it.

“I see. Will you keep me apprised of your decision?”

“The contrary.” Byleth’s eyes warmed again. “I intend to have a round table discussion.”

“Ah. With whom, pray tell?”

“All the lords and chiefs who were either neutral, or on our side.”

“I see.” A drop of sweat rolled down Ferdinand’s face.

“Does that trouble you?”

“No! No, Your Majesty. Surely not, for I am Ferdinand von Aegir.” Why did he even say that? The queen could see right through him.

“I will keep you apprised of the details. But in the meantime, please stay at a place you can be easily contacted.”

“I will.” The duke straightened his back and continued. This was a chance to show that he had it all under control! “I will be returning to Aegir, Your Majesty. It is my understanding that Agarthan forces still roam my lands.”

“Very well.” And for the first time, Ferdinand saw a flash of consideration on Byleth’s face, as though she wasn’t quite sure how to carry on next.

The Duke of Aegir smiled, waiting for his queen to dismiss him.

“Before you go, Ferdinand, there is something I should give you.” She spoke slowly, as though still unsure.

Duke Aegir’s eyes lit up. What could the Queen of Fódlan give to him?

“A letter, from Hubert.” She paused, eyes unable to meet his. “It was delivered along with the report on the location of Shambhala.”

Ferdinand’s face fell. “I see.”

“I’m sorry Ferdinand. We decided it was best for you to not see this letter.”

“In the event I defect? My Queen…”

“Byleth will do.” Her voice was snappy, as though tired of this charade.

“Byleth, then.” Ferdinand formed her name carefully. What was she disappointed about, then, if it was not formality? Surely it had nothing to do with him?

Byleth was waiting for him to continue, and Ferdinand rushed to finish his sentence.

“Byleth, I would have never left your side. You are the one I am fighting for, for a fairer and united Fódlan!”

“Yes, quite.” A small smile graced the queen –Byleth’s—lips. She reached across the table, to comfort him or as a formality, Ferdinand was not sure. Seeming to think better of it, she retracted her hand. “We had decided to keep it from you to shield you from whatever pain Hubert may cause.”

Hubert causing Ferdinand pain? The thought was reasonable, as the two rarely got along. But that was something Ferdinand enjoyed. Had enjoyed. Would never enjoy again.

Byleth carried on. “But after further consideration, I decided that perhaps closure is what you need.”

Ferdinand smiled. It was a pained smile, and he was sure she could see through it. He had half a mind to toss the letter into the fireplace. “Thank you, My Queen.” He murmured, before he could correct himself.

“I hope it will give you what you need.” Queen Byleth stood, walking to the door of her ornate, awkward office, to see him out herself.

“Thank you.” Ferdinand uttered again. If he said it enough times, perhaps he would believe it. In response, Byleth’s face tensed, then relaxed.

“It was a pleasure to speak with you today. You will hear from me soon.”

“Yes, thank you.” Ferdinand remembered to bow deeply, but the door was already being clicked shut.

* * *

It took a day and the better part of the next morning for Ferdinand to list all that needed to be done in Aegir. It took the afternoon and much of the evening to strike off the first order of business. He had to account for the staff of Aegir and sort out who remained and which roles needed to be replaced. It was rather vexing to realize that the head butler had passed midway through the war (of natural causes, thankfully). The first vexation was that no proper funeral was given for the man. Old Marcel was a warm and dry figure in the shadows of Ferdinand’s young life, and as much as it pained him to admit it, his passing weighed more heavily on the young duke than his oft-absent father. The second vexation was that, of course, no one took over his duties. Had anyone done so, Ferdinand would not have had to worry about the state of his house staff. It was the duty of the head butler to ensure each staff and position was accounted for. With the passing of Old Marcel, the task fell to the Duke of Aegir to sort out the state of his own home, which would be utterly beneath him. Ferdinand, however, was glad to have the distraction.

The day was over now, thankfully. More than half of his staff was missing, which meant an arduous hiring process was underway, most notable of which would be the hiring of a new head butler. In fact, that would be his first task. Father always said, to rule a country you must first rule your county. To rule your county you must first rule your home. Not that Father ever followed his own advice, what with his multiple, poorly hidden affairs. Yet was it not true that Mother never batted an eye nor fought up a storm at such facts?

Nevermind that. The dead were dead. Ferdinand would do well to dismiss such platitudes. But how did they become platitudes in the first place? They were likely stemmed from truth, on some level. Platitudes always were. Although the previous Duke Aegir’s fall had something to do with how he treated the citizens of Hrym territory, it had more to do with how well he ruled contrary to the power of Emperor Ionius. Surely that had contributed to Edelgard’s wrath for him, more than him being ever so slightly corrupt. After all, had she not spared Count Hevring and Bergliez? Bergliez was likely the most corrupt of all officials in the Empire –in the Coast of Adrestia. Yet did he not sacrifice himself for the sake of his soldiers? Perhaps all could be redeemed in death.

Ferdinand fiddled with such thoughts as he turned over the letter from Hubert. The lettering was clean, wasting no ink on frivolous designs. Quite the opposite of his own handwriting, full of frills and personality. It was not at all rushed. Just like Hubert to expect all eventualities. He wondered if there was a letter penned for him meant for when Edelgard won the war. That seemed unlikely. If Edelgard won, Ferdinand would be dead or a prisoner of war, and Hubert would be free to speak to him. Traitorous as it may be, the former Adrestian citizen wished for a reality where that was the case. Although he would be stripped of land and title, and most likely on death row, any reality where he could speak to Hubert once more was somehow preferable to, well, this.

He reached for his letter opener, hesitating over the envelope.

What had Queen Byleth said? Closure?

No, Ferdinand did not deserve closure. Not yet, at any case. There was work to be done. A house to maintain. A land to sweep clean. Citizens to protect. A country to bolster.

Yes, there was much work to be done. Ferdinand felt the drive in his heart, ready to burst in energy. He would save his lands and ensure the prosperity of Fódlan for all eternity. It was his duty as Duke Aegir, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Setting up some future stuff. This series is looking less like short stories and more like free-form, so I'll update the tags.


	3. Balthus Albrecht - Belonging I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balthus is a bodyguard.

Balthus never minded a good brawl, but this was too much! Didn’t they have to assign someone to guard Byleth while she slept? A brawl was a great way to figure out a lotta stuff but making a decision like this was kinda weird. If the winner was so tired from the brawl and fell asleep, wouldn’t that kinda defeat the purpose? And who was guarding her now that all three of her bodyguards were duking it out for who got to guard her? Eh, Balthus could care less. If he won, he’d definitely have the stamina to guard Byleth all night. So he’d better make sure he won. It’s not like those two scrawny sword wielders could hold a candle to him anyway.

“Hyaaa!” Felix swung his sword wildly at Balthus, but he jumped out of the way. Wasn’t it kinda a waste of energy to swing like that? Man, Balthus sure missed the way Yuri held his sword. Not a wasted motion in it!

Catherine was somethin’ else though. She was quiet, determined. If she were just a bit buffer, she’d be his type. Wait, no, he liked demure girls, so Catherine was definitely not his type. Nope. Her personality was too much like Constance’s anyways. As much as he loved the girl, she really was the opposite of everything he was. Actually, was Catherine like Constance?

“Gotcha.” The swordmaster was standing over him now, blue eyes glinting, training sword held to his exposed chest.

“Aww, I can’t get’cha to let this slip? C’mon, I’ll owe ya.”

“Ugh.” Catherine gave him a disgusted glance before turning back to Felix. “Alright, pretty boy. Just you and me now.”

“Hmph.”

Balthus dusted himself off to stand at the sidelines. The sun was setting, casting the training grounds in Derdriu’s palace into splotches of orange and red. Huh. If the sun was setting, didn’t that mean one of them should be going up to guard Byleth? He couldn’t even remember what was on her agenda today. Meeting with cavaliers and brigands to form the Derdriu Guard? Royal Guard? Royal Guard of Derdriu? Something like that.

Felix and Catherine were circling each other like a couple of wary wildcats. Who was gonna strike first? Who cared? Balthus didn’t. A buncha wimps waving swords at each other. That’s not a real brawl! Everyone knew that! A real brawl involved fists! Just fists. And maybe some kickin’, and spittin’. Yeah. Balthus wasn’t much of a spitter. Kinda felt weird. But he got spit on plenty before in fisticuffs. So he knew it was all fair game.

He was dragging out a training dummy, bored of watching the two test the waters. Just hit each other already! Since he wasn’t going to be guarding Byleth all night, there was no point in saving his energy, so he was punching away at the dummy. Gotta stay in tiptop form, after all!

The sun had gone down completely and the swordmaster and the mortal savant were still circling each other. They were at the ends of their ropes, Balthus could tell. At this point, it didn’t matter who won or lost, neither of them could guard Byleth with the state they’re in.

“Hey pals,” the war monk strode over to the two. “Let’s call it a night, yeah? You’re both tired out, so let me guard Byleth tonight.”

“Oh no, no way am I falling for that!” Catherine turned to swing at Balthus but missed by a long shot. She stiffened, seeing her own poor aim.

“Tch. Listen to you go. You can’t even see straight.” Felix was favouring his right leg visibly. Like he was one to talk.

“Hear me out.” Balthus put his hands up. “We’ve been fighting since dusk, and it’s nighttime. One of us has gotta guard Byleth. I got the stamina, you don’t.”

“That’s Queen Byleth to you.” Catherine retorted.

Felix scoffed again. “You bowed out early. Hardly a show of strength.”

“Hey, if I get in trouble, you’ll hear me hollerin’! Besides, who could beat the Veritable King of Grappling?”

“I just did.”

That got a laugh out of Felix.

“Alright, you’ve got a point, kid.” The former Knight of Seiros uttered. She was putting her sword away, a good sign.

“Aren’t you only a year older than him?” Felix was quick to point out. He was putting his sword away too.

“Eh, he acts like a kid, so he’s a kid.” Then she continued. “You’ll guard Byleth tonight, then we’ll take turns guarding her after that. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of all three of us being bodyguards, but I kind of see the point.”

“Thanks, pal.”

Felix was about to say more, but Catherine cut him off.

Content with the way things unfolded, Balthus strode over to Byleth’s chambers.

He was surprised to find her standing at her door, chatting with Ashe, Alois, Shamir, and a couple soldiers and monks.

“Hey, pal. What’s going on?”

“Report for duty or send someone competent,” Shamir glared at him.

“Uh… Reporting for duty?”

“Send someone competent.”

“Shamir! That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Alois was quick to smile. “We’re all a little tense. The Alliance… Ah… Fódlan? Lost a lot of good soldiers in the fight against Nemesis. I know the Knights of Seiros cracked like an egg, not least because Queen Byleth _poached_ our best one! Hahaha!”

Balthus gave a snort. It was the worst pun he’d heard yet. Shamir rolled her eyes.

“Thank you, everyone. Now that my bodyguard is here,” Byleth made eye contact with the war monk, and just one glance made him shiver, “You’re welcome to retire for the night. We’ll reconvene tomorrow morning to continue our discussion.”

“Ah, good night Your Majesty.” Ashe’s gentle voice came. He was the only one who bowed deeply. Alois and Shamir saluted.

“See ya, pals.” Balthus waved, though the trio were already walking off.

“Now, Balthus,” Byleth was opening her door, “Why don’t you join me for some tea?”

“Tea?” Balthus could laugh. “Sure, pal. I’d love some tea.”

From the smell, Balthus could tell it was Almyran Pine Needles. It made him nostalgic.

“Mmm. Holst used to make me this tea all the time.”

Byleth looked up and smiled. Was it Balthus’s imagination, or did she look kinda sad? She was a hard one to read, that’s for sure. Sensing his silence, Byleth tilted her head.

“Huh? Uh, nothing. Forget it.”

They sat in silence while the tea brewed. That was the worst part about tea, waiting for it to brew. It wasn’t like liquor, where someone already did the work for you, all you gotta do is pour. But with Byleth across from him, he didn’t really mind.

“The scent is nostalgic for me too. Reminds me of… simpler times.”

“Less lonely times, you mean.” Balthus laughed. “Doesn’t seem like Claude to just up and run. Actually, maybe that’s exactly like him.”

Byleth smirked. Now that’s a good look on a lady!

The kettle went off and Byleth went to pour the tea. She was so good at tea brewing even though she wasn’t a noble for sure. Lots of things about her were strange. Like her weird new crest.

Byleth set down the teacups and brought out a few pastries. Jelly-filled pastries! Mmm.

“So pal, wanna say why you’ve invited the Undefeatable King of Grappling to tea when he should be guarding your door?”

That brought out a small laugh from the green-haired woman. Alright! Balthus rarely saw Byleth smile, ever since the war ended and Claude left. The guy just up and flew away.

“Is it so odd I’d want to sit and chat with an old friend?” The warmth in her eyes didn’t betray her words, so it sounded about right!

“Couldn’t resist good ol’ Balthus, huh?”

“You could say that.”

“I’d do a lot better than Claude too.” That stopped Byleth in her tracks. “If I was with a total knockout, I’d never leave her behind while I went to do who-knows-what in who-knows-where!”

“Is that so…”

“Oh, yeah! You better believe I wouldn’t leave any fiancée I have unattended!”

“Balthus, this may come as a shock, but I love Claude very much.”

“You gotta if you’re willing to put up with this.”

Byleth laughed at that, a subdued sound. Like a snow leopard’s purr.

“I mean it, pal!” Balthus was laughing too, with his own mountain rumble. “You’ve got options, you’re the queen!”

“Options that can rival the King of Almyra?” Mirth was dancing in Byleth’s eyes. It took Balthus’ breath away.

“Oh.” And then he fell silent.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone yet. I _am_ surprised that Claude didn’t tell you, though.”

“Why, because I was in love with his mom?”

Byleth stiffened, and another wrack of silent laughs came out of her.

“You’ve got some weird ideas of our friendship, pal.”

Wiping a tear out of her eye, Byleth continued. “You two seemed to get along, almost as well as he did with Lorenz or Hilda, and those two knew before he left.”

“Hilda had to know, since her brother’s Holst.” Now that was a fine specimen of a man.

“Now that you know, are you put at ease that Claude didn’t just abandon me?”

“Oh yeah! I guess being a king –a real king—brings up all sorts of complications.” Balthus’ heart squeezed. “But now I’m kinda more worried for you.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, he’s the King of Almyra. You’re the Queen of Fódlan. Can you two really be together?”

“I assume this is about your mother?”

“It’s got nothin’ to do with her!”

Byleth hummed in response.

“Just know that you always have a pair of strong arm right here to hold you. Like I said, I wouldn’t mind being with a real knockout like you!”

Byleth just laughed again.

Soon enough, they started talking about Felix and Catherine. Balthus didn’t think too hard about this, but it was kind of a relief to talk about them even though it’s only day one on the job.

“I just don’t get them. They were sparrin’ over who got to guard you tonight, you know that?”

“I did not know that.”

“Did it so much it tired them out, so the Inexhaustible King of Grappling had to step in.”

“You stopped their sparring?”

“Yeah! By saying I should be your bodyguard tonight.”

“Well, you’d best not tell them of our tea party. That’ll make them spar twice as hard.”

“You think so? Even I’m not so full of myself!”

Byleth looked surprised at that. With her mouth hanging open like that… Yeah, Balthus could get used to the sight. When she did close her mouth, she looked thoughtful for a moment before asking her question. “Balthus, why did you decide to be my bodyguard?”

“Who could guard you better than me?”

That made her pause in thought.

Balthus reached for the teapot and was surprised to find it empty. “Got any more tea, pal?”

“I do,” Byleth stood and smoothed out her white robes.

It was kinda hard to wrap his head around the idea that Byleth was pretty much a queen. She dressed like a queen, she walked like a queen. It was hard not to stare.

“However, I do think it is time we said goodnight.”

“Already, pal? I’m still wide awake.”

“That’s good. You should be guarding me all night.”

“Oh yeah. Forgot why I came here.”

She was collecting the plates and teacups, though she made no move to ring the servant bell. Maybe she wasn’t used to it yet? The two headed to the eerily empty kitchen to put everything away, and Balthus spent his first night on guard with nothing much happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Balthus is so much older, I thought he'd have a hard time figuring out where he's gonna go after the war. Also, this dude has so little fanfic! Give this buff himbo some love!


	4. Balthus Albrecht - Belonging II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balthus finds his place... For now

Balthus was kicked awake by a very annoyed Catherine.

“Wake up, kid.” She stood sternly over him. “You’re on guard duty.”

“Oh yeah, I’m awake.” He got up and stretched. “Was awake this whole time, just havin’ a sit-down.”

“Uh-huh.” The swordmaster crossed her arms.

“Alright, the Well-Rested King of Grappling is ready to continue his watch!”

“You shouldn’t be well-rested after night watch.” Oh boy, now she looked pissed. “Go to bed, it’s my shift.”

“Thanks, pal.” Balthus stumbled away. Through the large windows, the sky was looking kinda orange or pink or something. The colour made him think of Holst, then it made him think of his cute little sister. That girl had a bust to look at. Holst would beat him up for thinking that.

The thought made him think about brawling with Holst. His chest and arms were enough to make any man weak. He was the second best role model for a perfect body. The first being Balthus himself, of course. What a man, what a man.

He’d lost his way in the palace. They’d been there for less than a week, and the only room he knew with any certainty was Yuri’s room. So that’s where he barged.

As soon as he walked in, Yuri sat up. Damn, so he’s still a light sleeper huh? The end of the war really did nothing to calm his nerves.

“Good morning, Balthus.”

Balthus grunted in response and collapsed onto the bed, drinking in the sweet scent of Yuri’s cosmetics. That was a good scent to fall asleep to. Why didn’t he sleep with Yuri more often? And with that, he began to snore.

* * *

The morning bell woke him up for good, lying with the sheets tangled around him and dried drool on his face. He was taking up the whole bed, and man was it comfy.

“Had a good sleep?” The mockery in Yuri’s voice didn’t escape him.

“Oh yeah, the best sleep I had since that thug knocked me out.”

Was Yuri giggling? Jeez, that was girly. “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that you were knocked out for three days straight.”

“Best rest of my life!”

Yuri was weirdly silent, playing with the skin around his nails again.

“So uh… What’s with you? I thought you woulda left Derdriu by now. Big cities like this aren’t your thing, yeah?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“C’mon Yuri,” Balthus got out of bed and advanced on Yuri with wiggling fingers. “C’mon…”

“Alright, alright. I’ll tell you if you get some breakfast with me.”

“Is that a promise?”

“They’re worth more than yours.”

“Hey!” Well, Yuri was right on that. Sorta. Balthus kept promises that he could keep and forgot about the rest. So what if he stretched the truth here and there? It was other people’s fault for believing him.

It was kind of weird to have meals not in a dining hall or a tavern. There was a wing for all of Byleth’s former students – those who wanted to stay, anyways—and a super posh breakfast room that everyone could eat in. Balthus technically wasn’t allowed, since he was a bodyguard. But he had no idea where he quarters were, much less the mess hall, so he followed Yuri to the breakfast room.

After a few minutes of walking through crisp marble walkways, Yuri broke the silence. “Unlike you to be so quiet.”

“Yeah? Missed my voice already?”

“Hardly.” Yuri’s scoff was kinda cute. Not as cute as Holst’s, but cute. “You’ve been… Unusually taciturn ever since the end of the war. Did defeating Nemesis take the wind out of your sails somehow?”

“Oh nah. It’s not that.” Balthus’ mind wandered to Felix and Catherine again. “Just tired of sparring with Felix and Catherine.”

“You? Tired of sparring?”

“Oh no, it’s not the sparring! I’m always good to go. The Tireless King of Grappling wins every fight and never turns down a good brawl.” Yet Balthus _was_ tired of sparring, with Felix and Catherine, at least.

“Then what’s the issue?” Yuri opened the door for Balthus. They had arrived.

The breakfast room was a sight. It was practically glowing white, with large windows overlooking the waters around Derdriu. Dorothea and Manuela were sitting at one of the tables chatting away. The songstresses looked stunning in their flowing dresses. Man oh man, what Balthus wouldn’t do to have one of them under him.

“Good morning, Yurikins!” Dorothea was already greeting Yuri with a giggle. A woman coming to Balthus’ rescue? He thought he’d never see the day.

“Dorothea, Manuela. It’s good to see you.”

“Imagine Yurikins coming down to breakfast for once, and with a man in tow, no less.” The way Dorothea was winking… Looked like a woman couldn’t come to Balthus’ rescue after all.

“My, my. As though you’re one to talk.”

“Oh, Ela and I are no secret.”

Balthus yawned. Manuela looked pretty done with the conversation too.

“Anyways, we’re just heading out.” Dorothea turned back after taking Manuela’s hand. “Enjoy breakfast, you two.”

After the door closed and Yuri was sure they were out of earshot, he turned to Balthus as though nothing had just happened. “So, our very own Tireless King of Grappling has grown tired of grappling. Do go on.”

“Yeesh…” Balthus rubbed his hands together as a butler came and set down a breakfast platter filled with… Two-fish sauté. “Uh… Fish. Huh.”

“A little too rich in the morning, don’t you think?”

“Oh yeah? Your frail stomach can’t handle a little butter in the morning?”

Yuri was quick to brush him off. As expected, he was back to grilling Balthus in no time. He was also digging into the fish with a gusto that made Balthus feel a little odd.

“Alright, alright! It’s really not a big deal.” Balthus said around a mouthful, trying to push out the image of Yuri delicately biting off a piece of white flesh on his fork.

“Please, go on.”

“I just feel weird sparring with them, is all. Like, folks we used to fight in Abyss, or even that rival gang of yours,” Yuri scrunched his face up at that, “Fighting them felt right. Like we all knew what we were fighting for. With Felix and Catherine… It feels like they’re fightin’ for something else entirely. And I’ve no clue what! Just feels weird that they have all this reserve energy, and I don’t even know what it’s about.”

Yuri hummed thoughtfully, licking the tip of his fork with a pink tongue. He got a bit of sauce on the corner of his mouth. Balthus had to stop himself from doing something about it. He coaxed himself to look at his own plate and gobbled down another piece of fish.

After some silence filled only with Balthus’ chewing, Yuri spoke.

“Balthus, why did you become a bodyguard?”

“Probably the same reason you’re staying in Derdriu. Not much else to do.”

That got a laugh out of the man. Damn, what Balthus wouldn’t do to hear that laugh everyday. Holst’s too, actually. Even though he had a year’s fill of it, he wouldn’t say no to more. “Balthus, I left my gang behind to follow Byleth. I still have much to do beyond Derdriu.”

“Oh, then—” Balthus took another gulp of food. Why was Yuri licking his fork like that after every bite? “Then why are you here?”

A smile played on Yuri’s lips. “Let’s just say, there’s something here that’s worth far more to me than family.”

“More than family? I mean, I can see that being true for me. Aside from my ma, I haven’t got too much family. But for you? I just don’t believe it.”

“I suspect that’s why Felix and Catherine became bodyguards too.”

“Because they love Byleth more than family?”

Yuri’s eyes widened, then his face snapped back into his teasing expression. “In a manner, sure.” He stood up, smoothing out the wrinkles on his black tunic.

Balthus stayed seated, which prompted his house leader to linger.

Yuri looked at him with an expression all too familiar. It was that look he gave to cats that just knocked over their own bowl of milk.

“Yeah, I think I get it. I see the way you fight when the Scorpion Gang attacks. The fire in your eyes, the strength behind every swing. It’s… Yeah. I see that in Felix and Catherine too.”

“So you get it.” Yuri smiled. It was testy, but still a smile.

“Yeah I get it!” Balthus stood and began walking to the door. Yuri picked up his plate and looked around for a moment before putting it down. “Still not used to noble life?”

“Oh please. I was born for this.”

* * *

When Balthus made his way back to the training grounds, Felix and Catherine were at it already. Some of the fire from yesterday was gone though. Looked like they weren’t sparring over something in particular.

“Hey, pals. Up and at ‘em.”

Felix nearly spat at him.

“Woah. What’s the matter, pal?”

“You.” Felix hissed. “You fell asleep on the job.” Then he turned and swung downwards on Catherine, who rolled out of the way. Kinda impressive. Even Yuri couldn’t always talk and spar at the same time.

“It was pretty unprofessional. One warning, kid. Next time I’ll boot you off the team.” Catherine was all precision and angles, like a knife cutting through silk.

“Byleth can handle herself.”

“Queen Byleth.” They both snapped.

“She did defeat Nemesis.” Balthus mumbled, grabbing his training gauntlets. “Alright, who’s up for a threesome?”

“That’s not—” Felix’s eyes widened.

Catherine smirked and gave his chest the butt side of her sword. “Nice distraction, kid. Maybe we’d make a good team.”

“I’m not lookin’ for a team, but if you wanna dance, I’m down.”

Catherine gave another grin as Felix stalked away, swinging his sword once before setting it down. Felix was all angles too. Maybe all sword wielders were the same.

“Alright, kid. Show me what you’ve got.”

Even though Balthus knew that Catherine had just finished night watch, he couldn’t believe it. She was moving with ferocity, speed, left no openings. How was he supposed to spar with someone like that? He remembered why she reminded him of Constance. She was the same. An impenetrable shield of words, instead of limbs and swords. They were both protecting something, but it was something that only they knew, maybe only they could see. Balthus wished he knew what. He wanted to have that too, so he could get stronger.

Catherine swung at his arm this time. Hah, that was a mistake. Balthus got ready to punch her in that opening she had when she swung high but got a swipe across his legs instead. He slammed butt first to the ground.

Over the ringing in his head, he heard clapping.

“Good job, oh Undefeatable King of Grappling.”

Was Felix… teasing him? That he could get used to.

“I’m just getting warmed up.” Balthus stood, patting himself off, especially in the bum area.

“Didn’t think a woman could give you a sore behind?”

Felix’s face twisted into a grimace.

“Nice one!” Balthus shot her a grin.

“Now go get changed. I can tell you fell straight back to sleep after your shift.”

Balthus wasn’t sure what to say to that. It was… It kinda reminded him of his ma. Not the way she spoke, well, a little bit. Mostly just what she was saying. So he just left.

When he did find the rooms assigned to Byleth’s bodyguards, he was surprised by how lived in it already looked. Felix had hung his cape and fancy belts on a chair. His puffy white shirt was thrown on his bed. Catherine had her weathered cloak hanging from the back of the door. On her table was a copy of some knight story.

They were so different, but they were also alike. Balthus kinda got why they fought so hard. This was the life they always knew they’d have. He kinda wished he knew what sort of life he would have.

It wasn’t this, but it was close enough.


	5. Alois Rangeld - Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alois needs to accept a few things about other people, and one about himself.

“What do you mean you won’t become captain?”

“I’m… Really not comfortable being a captain of the Royal Guard.”

“But you founded the Knights of Derdriu! And we’re recruiting you to become part of the Royal Guard.”

“I wouldn’t say I founded them… Some of Lord Lonato’s men elected to follow me through the war, even though I abandoned my lands.”

“Ashe!” Alois struggled to think of a witty pun. That’ll win him over!

“I’m really sorry, Captain Rangeld. We’ll need to find someone else to lead them.”

How was Alois supposed to find a decent cavalry member who could also inspire the troops that belonged to Ashe? Sighing, Alois motioned for the young bow knight to follow him.

“Where are we going?”

“To talk to Her Majesty, of course! I can’t let our best candidate get away. No can do!” Alois punctuated the joke with a laugh.

Ashe just shook his head. But it distracted him from protesting more, so that was good!

When they arrived at the queen’s office, she looked just about done with everything. She looked so done, she’d be sent back to the kitchen if she were a steak. Oh that was a good one. He’d better remember it so he could say it.

“What a relief,” the queen intoned. She nodded to Felix, who scowled as he left his post. “I’m so done with paperwork.”

The perfect opportunity! “I can see that!” Alois almost burst out laughing as he told his joke. Oh that was a good one.

Nobody knew the worth of a good joke nowadays! The queen just shook her head.

“Now, how may I help the two of you? I hope the Royal Guard hasn’t been giving you trouble already.”

“Not the Royal Guard, but this young man here. It seems he’s a bit too ashen to be captain!”

The queen stood up abruptly to inspect Ashe. “Are you ill?”

“N-no, Your Majesty! That’s not why--!”

Now her green, steely gaze rounded on Alois. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Ah… My apologies, Your Majesty.”

Queen Byleth shrugged off the formality. “Nevermind that. Are you here for the sole purpose of wrangling Ashe into becoming captain?”

“I wouldn’t say wrangle. More like persuade.”

“I-I’m really sorry for causing all this trouble, I just really don’t feel comfortable—”

“Ashe’s as stubborn as The Immovable. You should know this.” As usual, the queen’s deadpan delivery was flawless.

“Oh yes! A big grey rock he is.”

“What?”

Alois gave a hearty laugh all of his own.

When he sobered up, Queen Byleth spoke again. “Ashe, do you really have no interest in becoming the captain?”

“No, Your Majesty. This is really out of my comfort zone.”

“We’re outside of some zone for sure!” A green glare convinced him to can it.

“Very well. There’s no reason why you should do something you don’t want to. Don’t let my older brother bother you.”

“Older brother? You finally—!”

“You’re dismissed, Ashe.”

Ashe gave a deep bow before leaving.

“Your Majesty, you can’t really—”

The queen gave a world worn sigh. “Alois. Ashe is who he is. Don’t tell me you really can’t accept him, flaws and all.”

“That’s not—!”

“It is. Now goodnight.”

At least Queen Byleth still had the courtesy to walk him to the door. But she really called him her brother! How proud he was to have a little sister like her. 

* * *

“Honey, I’m home!”

“Papa!” Little Mel leapt right into Alois’ arms. Ah, to come home to a happy wife and daughter, with marinated leeks on the stove. What could be better?

Sonia came out to call her daughter back in the kitchen. “Melonie! You’re not done cooking yet!”

“Okay, Maman!” And Little Mel was off, back to the kitchen.

This gave Sonia an opportunity to wrap her elegant arms around the former Knight of Seiros and pull him down for a kiss.

“Oh, sweetheart. Save it for later. Or have you missed me so much that you won’t let a weary traveller eat first?” 

That earned him a playful slap on the shoulder. “You old tease, you.”

“Maman, Papa, dinner is ready.” And Little Mel was tottering out, with a large pot of leeks, carrots, and soaked bread all simmering in spices and herbs. The smell was wonderous! Ever since she started cooking nearly six years ago, she’d only been getting better. Soon enough, she may rival her own mother’s cooking!

“Thank you, my little girl.” That earned a giggled. With the way things were going, Alois was earning all sorts of affection.

The family of three settled down for dinner. Sonia stood to serve each person a portion, though it didn’t escape Alois that Little Mel wanted to be the one to serve.

“Maman, you always give the best piece to me instead of Papa!”

“You deserve the best piece, my dear. You’re still a growing girl. Papa’s all done growing.”

“Right you are my dear! You wouldn’t want me to become a big, great, monster would you?” Alois stood and mimed a monster. Little Mel, the sweet girl she was, shrieked in delight and ran around the table with the monster close at her tail.

“Alright, alright, eat the food, don’t play around it.” 

“Yes, ma’am!” Alois sat back at the table, and so did his daughter.

When they settled down again, Little Mel was the first to speak.

“Papa, when are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow night, dear.”

“But you just got back!”

Sonia shushed her. “Papa is doing important work in the capital. You’ll be back to working in Garreg Mach soon, right dear?”

“Uh, actually. Well, there’s something I need to discuss with the two of you. I’m thinking all of us could move to Derdriu.”

“What? Why?” Little Mel nearly shouted. Yowzers, his girl had a voice. Just like her old man!

“Dearest, shouldn’t we discuss this between us first?” Sonia put a hand on Little Mel’s shoulder.

“What for? Everyone I care for is at this table, I thought we should all have equal input.”

“No, Papa! No, no, no!” Little Mel was really crying now.

“What are you crying for? It’s a city! All sorts of sights to see. Did you know--?”

“No! I don’t want to go! First you leave us for five years, now we have to move? I don’t want to!” Mel pushed her chair back and ran to her room, shaking with cries all the way.

“Mel? We’re having a discussion!”

Sonia put her hand on Alois’ arm, forcing him to sit.

“My dearest… You don’t know the full of it. The war has been very hard on Melonie. She lost some of her friends, not to mention that she hasn’t been in school for the past five years. And… Well, we’ve missed you terribly.”

“I know, I know. It was irresponsible of me to go searching Fódlan for Rhea the whole time. I should have stayed home with my two best girls.” Alois leaned in for a kiss, which Sonia gladly accepted.

“I think it best if we keep things the same, for now.” With that, Sonia rose to comfort her daughter who was beginning to cry up a ruckus in her bedroom.

Alois could never argue with his wife, so he left it at that.

* * *

When Alois returned to Derdriu, he learned that Shamir had become captain of the Archers of Derdriu. She was against the idea at first, but seniority demanded that she be captain instead of anyone else. Shamir didn’t shirk from her duty, so why did Ashe? Even Young Cyril accepted the position of Advisor of General Affairs. Now wasn’t that a title and a half?

It was like when Captain Jeralt left all those years ago. It left the Knights in a right mess. Well, there was the fire too, of course. But all of it was a mess, and at the tender age of 23, Alois had to become captain, all because he was Jeralt’s squire! He sure didn’t want to do it, but when duty fell to him, he could never shrug it off!

Nevertheless, he was surprised when he saw Ashe dining with the Knights of Derdriu. Most of them were cavalry members of Gaspard, it’s true, but there were paladins and valkyries in their midst as well. It seemed Ashe got along with them too. He was about to greet them when a hand landed heavily on his shoulder.

“Don’t talk. Just watch.”

“Wha—Shamir!”

“Just. Watch.”

Alois stood still, watching Ashe dine with his fellow knights from afar. He was right, Ashe got along with everyone. But as he watched, he realized Ashe’s men spoke to him like a friend, or a little brother. And Ashe’s own voice was subdued, nearly fading into the background. When a cavalier told a story, he was listening, nodding, not at all interjecting. When he did speak, his tone was deferential, as though waiting for someone to correct him. In fact, his men were quite comfortable talking over him!

“Not good material for a captain, is he?”

The hand lifted, and Alois turned. “Just because he’s not made from the same cloth as me doesn’t mean he won’t make… a fine garment! Haha!”

Shamir sighed. “No, I suppose that would be true if he wanted to be captain. But he doesn’t. So leave the kid alone.”

“Leave him—Shamir! I could say the same for you!”

“I became captain of the Archers because I knew it was my duty. Ashe already fought against us for 5 hard years because of duty. Don’t forget that.”

“So he should have no trouble serving us too!”

“You don’t get it do you?”

Alois stopped. No, he was beginning to understand. Ashe had already done his penance. Everyone had. Now was the time for everyone to live the life they wanted.

Shamir was sighing and walking away before Alois called to her.

“Wait! Shamir!” He ran toward her. “Are you saying that… I just have to accept whatever he wants to do? I mean, I have a duty too.”

“And your duty should be serving the people. Not wrangling them into a life they didn’t choose.”

“Right. Of course.”

Shamir turned and left.

Standing on the sidelines of the mess hall, Alois couldn’t help but admire how Ashe fit in with his comrades. He may not be their captain, but he certainly was important to them. That much should be enough.

Alois wondered where he belonged. He thought of his wife, and his daughter. No matter where he worked, he would always belong to his family. With that, he happily reported to the queen that he would return to Garreg Mach immediately and resume his role as Captain of the Knights. It was the least he could do for Little Mel.


	6. Anna - Deals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna makes a deal.

Anna was running, her steps tapping like coins jingling on the marble steps of the Derdriu palace. She wondered how much a chunk of the patterned blocks would sell on the market. Probably a lot.

Barely out of breath, Anna rounded onto the office of Advisor of General Affairs. The door was sandalwood, an Almyran favourite. What was the material of the previous door, before an Almyran advisor took office? It was probably expensive too, like ebony or something. Could she find it? It would sell for a tidy sum.

She knocked on the door, then knocked again when no reply came.

“What? What?” Cyril’s face peeped out, amber eyes darting to and fro. Was it just her, or were his robes falling off his shoulders in a really weird way? They better not have paid top coin for the one who did his fitting. They did a terrible job.

“Cyril! It’s me, Anna.”

“Huh?” Cyril smoothed out his robes, putting the shimmering – and probably expensive—cloth back onto his shoulders, where they stayed. “Hello, Anna. What can I do for you?”

It was a little weird that the advisor didn’t invite her in. But that was to be expected. Even though she was richer than all of them, of course no one would give her the time of day. Or could it be that Cyril thought she was knocking on his door to peddle? Just how low did he think of her?

“Well! I’m here to propose the opportunity of a lifetime!” The Almyran boy blushed furiously as soon as she said propose. “Any chance I could come into your office to tell you what a great deal this’ll be?” 

“Uh, sure. Propose to—propose away!” Cyril stepped out of the room, letting the door close behind him with a neat click.

So he wasn’t going to let her in. Anna could huff, but if she got her deal, she couldn’t care less if some advisor wouldn’t let her enter his office for some unknown reason. With that, Anna happily informed Cyril that she’ll be procuring top merch, and if Derdriu would open their coffers to her for a little loan, they’d get their returns, and first pick of her merch.

“First pick?” Cyril put his hand on his chin. “Well do ya got any rings or –uh, jewellery? Any kind is fine, doesn’t gotta be a ring.”

“Oh, I’ll have rings aplenty! I’ll have diamond rings, emerald rings, topaz rings, amethyst rings—”

“Amethyst! Yeah, amethyst would be nice… How much of a loan are we talking?”

“30K!”

“30 thousand? I dunno, Anna. That’s a bit hefty, even for me.”

“Don’t you have the entire coffers to your disposal?”

“I do, but we gotta make payments for rebuildin’. A lot of our funds are goin’ into that. I can’t give you that much. People’s lives are worth more.”

The ornate –and expensive—brown door opened, cutting off their conversation. Lysithea stood there, eyeing Anna and Cyril.

“Oh, hey. Sorry that took so long. Let me walk ya to the library.”

“No need. You’ll only slow me down.”

Harsh words for a pretty girl. Cyril was blushing though. Maybe people would pay good money for a beautiful woman to talk down to them? There was a business opportunity in there!

Lysithea strode away, heels clacking against the marble. The tall Almyran man made a move to follow her.

“How’s this for a deal? If I go to Garreg Mach to rebuild, will you give me some funds so I can procure—I mean, contribute to the cause?”

“Um, I hafta go.” Cyril readjusted his robes one more time to follow after the pale-haired girl.

“Now, hey! I wasn’t done!”

But he was hurrying away. Only now did Anna realize that his robes weren’t all that expensive. They were made of a cheap imitation material. Perhaps the coffers of Derdriu weren’t as overflowing as Anna hoped, even though they escaped the worst of the war.

Too bad. War’s always bad for business. Good for people who made weapons, not so much for curators of fine arts and other truly expensive things, like Anna.

She decided she would offer a different deal to Cyril tomorrow.

* * *

A flash of dark brown hair caught Anna’s eye. It’d been over a month since Anna last spoke to Cyril. With all the rebuilding meetings and that lengthy round-table council, Cyril’s presence was almost as rare as finding gold in the waters of Derdriu. Anna wasn’t deterred though. He was here now, at the plaza, and she wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip away.

“Cyril!”

“Ah!” His amber eyes were pealed open so wide, Anna thought they would pop out. “Anna! You scared me.” Come to think of it, those were pretty eyes. If they were gems, they’d sell well, especially now, when the mining business had been slow for years.

“Just the fellow I was looking for.” Anna gave a mischievous smile, because she knew his secret.

“Oh boy.”

“So about that amethyst ring. It wouldn’t happen to be for a certain—” A swipe of Cyril’s hand got Anna to stop. She was surprised by how much authority he wielded.

“Whatever this is about, I don’t wanna hear about it.” The tall man paused, likely scheming. He knew he wouldn’t be able to turn down her deal, so he had to cut her off before she got started. Anna could respect that in a customer. She had to stop herself quite a few times from making a worthy investment that she just couldn’t afford yet. After his deliberation, he spoke again. “If you’re so keen on doin’ something, anything, why don’t you go to Garreg Mach?”

Anna was taken aback. Did Cyril really misunderstand what she was after? She was after coin! Altruism could get a merchant far, but it certainly didn’t fill their coin-purse. At least not directly.

Putting a hand to the back of his neck, the Almyran man looked down uncomfortably. “Look, I know this isn’t the answer you were hopin’ for, but we really got no coin to spare. And… I’d be there now if I could. But I’m needed here now.” There was a wistful look in his eyes, as he gazed into the distance. Anna realized there was no arguing with this man. His mind was already made up. Hers however…

“Tell you what, Advisor of General Affairs. I’ll go where I like. If I want to go to Garreg Mach, I will. If I want to travel around and procure whatever fine goods are left over after the war – I mean, abandoned estates are ripe for the picking—then I will. I’ll do what I like, thank you very much.” There was no malice in her voice though. There never was. It was bad for business.

A smile broke through Cyril’s face. “Alright, I’ll leave ya to it. If you leave me to my job, too.” He toyed with a rope on his side, where his quiver used to be. A nervous habit, most likely. And then a flush spread across his face. “But if ya come across that amethyst ring. Just… I’ll pay for it, alright? With my own coin, not with the country’s.” 

“I don’t know… There’s going to be a hefty price on it. Who knows, maybe you’ll have competition.”

“Nah, I doubt it.” A bit of the boyishness peeked through the advisor’s exterior. “But ya know, even if there were no ring, it wouldn’t matter.”

“It wouldn’t matter! The ladies love—”

“Lysithea’s not any lady.” And he was looking down, hand on the back of his neck like he had a crick there.

“Hmph, well.”

“It’s…” The usually fast-shooting man stuttered over his words. “It’s the people that matter, not the stuff. I had to learn that the hard way when I saw Garreg Mach like the mess it was. But when the people came back… Yeah, then it was a home.”

Anna couldn’t agree with the sentiment, but who was she to rebuke a potential future customer? Far into the future, but a customer, nonetheless.

“Uh, don’t go thinkin’ Garreg Mach won’t need all the help it could get. I mean, the towns around it are… We never got around to helping ‘em out.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Anna brushed him off. This advisor wasn’t going to be the boss of her. But then an idea struck her. With all that land tilled up from the war… There was probably tons of artefacts and riches unearthed. And those peasants wouldn’t know the first of it, so Anna could just swoop in and claim the goods! “Actually, that might not be such a bad idea!”

“Oh, well, that’s good. I’m glad ya came around to helpin’—”

“Not about the helping! I mean, helping is good too.” Anna gave a rueful smile when Cyril frowned. “But think about all the stuff that was buried centuries ago—a millennia ago—that could be unearthed! It’s ripe for the picking. It’d be a crime if I didn’t go!”

“Uh… Right.” Cyril looked doubtful.

It was definitely about the potential riches. Not about helping people build up what’s been her temporary home for the last 6 years. Nope, not about that at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought Anna was pretty perceptive.


	7. Annette Fantine Dominic - Winter II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annette and the Faerghus gang take back Fhirdiad.

The night before their invasion was to be launched, Annette was giddy in her borrowed bed in Fraldarius. Everything happened so quickly. Intel reported that the citizens of Fhirdiad had begun to riot after a series of particularly encouraging speeches given by Sylvain. Honestly, Annette was surprised with her fellow red-headed friend. Although, she really shouldn’t be. Sylvain’s way with words had gotten many a reluctant lady to jump into bed with him, of course his oration abilities could get a flock of confused and terrified citizens to stand up for themselves.

Amidst the confusion of riots, Annette and her team, along with soldiers from house Gautier, Fraldarius, Galatea, Charon, and the Knights of Derdriu would march to Fhirdiad as “back-up”. With all of the Kingdom soldiers dealing with the riots, they could slip in unnoticed and end this so-called Cornelia once and for all.

According to Duke Fraldarius, Cornelia was the only one who reigned over former Faerghus, although a circle of her most trusted lieutenants were always with her and would defend her with their lives. The former Kingdom soldiers, however, were still under orders to defend their home from the Alliance and those loyal to Faerghus, so there was no dissuading them until their leader fell. The war had long been over, but for those men and women, the battle raged on. Once Cornelia was defeated, Duke Fraldarius promised that he would gladly cede Faerghus to Queen Byleth and quell any fears citizens may have about the transition of power. In return, the queen promised that Faerghus lands would have right of their own jurisdiction, much as the Empire had. The prospect meant that by Great Tree Moon, Annette could return to Fhirdiad as a citizen and reunite with her family.

Before Annette knew it, the sun was beginning to rise over the mountains of Ailell. Had she kept herself awake all night with her fluttering thoughts? No, her eyes felt fine, and her limbs didn’t have the overenergized exhaustion that came with staying up all night, which meant she must have fallen asleep at some point. She took some time to prepare herself before joining her mages for breakfast. She had to look imposing, or commanding. Basically everything that she wasn’t. These people were entrusting their lives to her, a relative new-comer to the battle ahead. She had to make them see that she was capable and dependable, and oh! The warlock was losing it. Taking back Fhirdiad was one thing, but getting her men to trust her? It had taken her so long to earn the respect of her School of Sorcery mages during the war. She was too flighty, too light. How could anyone take her seriously?

When she stepped into the mess hall, busy and loud with last minute drills over plans and Sylvain singing an old drinking song to boost morale, all of Annette’s nerves melted away. There they were. Her mages, who fought with her all throughout the push to Enbarr and into battle against the Agarthans. They were all sitting there, breaking their fast with one another, conversing like summer rain after a dry spell. How Annette had missed them.

“Thibaut, Timothy!” Annette called, greeting each of them by name. “Micheline, Cecilia!” And there it was, all the ice caps in her heart melting away, giving way to spring. The spring in her mages’ smiles. The veritable fountains of joy, joining her in helping all her worries flow away.

“Miss Dominic!” All her mages called, as though all those months hadn’t passed, and they were just on another mission in the long march to victory.

“I thought all of you left already!” The warlock cried, her fearless leader act a complete wash in front of her most trusted comrades and former School of Sorcery classmates.

“When we heard you won’t be part of the fight to reclaim Fhirdiad, many of us nearly did. But Timothy here convinced us that it was our duty to take back our home.”

“Really?” Annette’s eyes rounded on her shy mage, who barely spoke, even when spoken to.

“Yes, Miss Dominic. I have a sister at home in Fhirdiad anyway. So it was no trouble.”

“But you convinced everyone?”

Her mages helpfully supplied a healthy dose of nods, with Micheline landing a few light pats on Timothy’s back.

The young warlock was truly touched. It was also a relief, since that meant she didn’t need to get a battalion to get used to her in a rush. They all knew each other so well, they would move like melded liquid in battle.

“Alright, listen up.” Felix’s voice rang through the mess hall, interrupting Annette’s joyful reunion. “The riots are starting up again, and the Kingdom army has requested our help. They don’t suspect a thing. We march soon, so get ready.”

The dark-haired mortal savant was about to step down when Sylvain jumped up next to him, pressing a grumbling Felix easily to his side. “What our dear royal bodyguard means to say is… Today, we take back Fhirdiad. Cornelia has reigned too long, unlawfully, that even the citizens of Faerghus are ready to take up arms. Everyone is on our side, and we’ve spent months preparing for this. We can’t lose. Let’s go out there and reclaim our home!”

A rousing chorus of “yeah”s and other whooping noises resounded through the hall. Soldiers and knights got up to don their armour and pick up weapons. Annette gave her mages a bright smile and said, “Let’s do this!”

The march to Fhirdiad was brisk, with everyone in high spirits. When they entered the city gates, they found a city in chaos. Snow was painted red with blood as citizens and soldiers alike were pushing each other about and brawling in the streets. Faerghus must truly be starved if trained military members couldn’t hold back civilians. Annette felt a pressing need to heal a particularly injured citizen when Felix put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head. Her battalion as well, looked away.

It always felt wrong to Annette, that war would involve people who had nothing to do with it. She admired what Mercedes did, taking care of people caught up in the crossfire. But at the same time, Annette’s heart swelled at the thought of citizens fighting alongside them, rallying with their cause. If the former School of Sorcery student hadn’t joined professor Byleth, she was sure she would be one of them, fighting to bring down Cornelia.

When they got to the antechamber to the throne room, Annette and her companions felt like they were ready to burst. Catherine had already taken out Thunderbrand, with Shamir acting as guard behind her, bow drawn and alert. Sylvain, Felix, and Ingrid were positioned for their own version of a triangle strike. Annette had her mages at the ready to bring down large amounts of enemies with resonant flames. Dedue’s battalion was in front of hers, and she gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up. Ashe was also in the midst of the Knights of Derdriu, with an unfamiliar great knight at their helm.

Sylvain locked eyes with Catherine before speaking softly. “Today, we take back Fhirdiad. For Queen Byleth, and for Prince Dimitri!”

Then, Catherine was rushing at the door, quickly sweeping left to take down any guard on the interior of the room. Shamir had an arrow nocked, ready to shoot anyone beyond Thunderbrand’s range. The Faerghus trio swooped in, with Ingrid first, taking the high vantage point. Sylvain and Felix followed, with Felix bearing right to cut down any guards. Annette had a spell at the ready, feeling wind already tingling at her fingertips. But the quick filing in stopped, and she couldn’t help but think of the worst. Had they been defeated already?

She saw a fist raised from Dedue, and she raised hers in kind. They were… halting? After a moment, much slower, everyone filed into the throne room. Annette had already relaxed the magic flowing out of her palms. Something was definitely amiss. And when she stepped into the throne room with her battalion, her gut feeling was confirmed.

Aside from their well-organized army, the room was empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!


	8. Annette Fantine Dominic - Winter I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annette struggles with the state of Fhirdiad in the winter of 1186.

A chill blew through the balconies, where just 4 months ago there was a grand party with everyone present. Now, there was the lightest dusting of snow over everything, reminding Annette that winter was coming whether she liked it or not. All the leaves had flown away from their perches, like birds migrating for the season. How Annette wished she could be like those birds, flying away when the winds got rough, coming back when the frigid air thawed. But Annette was a Faerghus woman, and Faerghus women didn’t run from the cold. They stood in it, defiant against the very nature of seasons, waiting for their men to come home.

There were no men coming back though. Not here. Everyone was leaving, finding a new home. Linhardt and Caspar had long left, even before victory was certain. As soon as Nemesis fell, they were nowhere to be found. Dimitri was spirited off by Dedue in the middle of the war; Goddess knew where he was now. And Sylvain and Ingrid went back to their respective houses, their real homes, to fight the good fight on the home front. Annette could never go back though. There was no home for her after the razing of Fhirdiad by that wicked woman. She felt the fabric of her gloves tighten around her fists as she threatened to tear them with grip alone. It would be a shame, they were a nice pair. Letting out a huff, Annette relaxed her hands.

“Annie! I thought I’d find you here.”

“Mercie?” Annette could hardly believe her ears. Was Mercie really here?

“Oh Annie, it’s so good to see you!” The sing-song lilt of Mercie’s voice was like a salve to the frostbite in Annette’s heart.

Without thinking further, Annette threw herself into the taller woman’s warm embrace. She smelled of cornflower and the promise of summer. “Oh Mercie, I didn’t think…”

“Whatever is the matter, Annie? I thought I would surprise you, but I didn’t think it would be such a shock.”

“Oh no, it’s not a shock.” Annette smoothed her hair out and took off her glove before wiping her eyes. “Okay, it’s a bit of a shock. A lot of a shock!” Knowing that her friend was back gave her the right to be a little indignant. “Why didn’t you write? You didn’t tell me where you were going! I had to hear from Cyril that you went back to Garreg Mach!”

For once in their friendship, Mercie looked taken aback, her cornflower eyes widening at Annette’s outburst. “I didn’t… Well, to be honest, I didn’t think I’d be missed.”

“You didn’t think you’d be missed? Mercie, you’re my best friend. Of course I would miss you! Not to mention everyone else here, like…” Her sharp, insistent voice trailed off. There was no one else left, really.

“Well, I’m happy to know that you would have missed me! It was wrong of me to assume that I’d place so low in everyone’s hearts.”

“Yeah!” Annette nearly yelled. She was so happy that Mercie was here, she let her voice out a bit. “Wait, why are you here?”

The bishop gave a musical little laugh. “I heard there was a party! Should I not have come?”

“So you came for someone else’s going away party, but you didn’t even tell me—your best friend since our days at the School of Sorcery—that you were going away?”

“That’s right!” Sometimes, the older woman could really be infuriating.

“Nevermind that. You came for the party, right? So let’s get back to it.”

“Yes, let’s!”

The two women stepped back into the dry heat of the party. They must have been a sight. Annette was a pop of clashing colours, and Mercie a pastel vision. The bubbly warlock didn’t mind though. She liked how she and her best friend were so different. Although she could see how being with someone who was exactly the same would have its appeal.

Dorothea and Manuela were wearing complementary dresses, each accentuating their own beauty, but also bringing out those of her partner’s. The tinkling laugh that each had, so carefree and… happy. Annette wanted that. She wanted the war to truly be over. But in her heart—in her home—it wasn’t. She couldn’t imagine it ever could be.

A calloused hand slipped into hers, interweaving with her now freezing ungloved hand.

“Oh Annie… If I’d known…”

Annette looked up, her eyes boring a hole into Mercie’s gaze. “How could you not hurt, to see everyone all dressed up, having a party, while our home still burns?”

“Our home isn’t burning Annie. Everyone’s there to help clean up.”

The ginger-haired woman shot a glance at Felix, who was standing at ease close to the queen, shaking his head “no” at a passing servant offering him champagne.

“Felix is protecting the queen, our professor.”

“She wasn’t our professor.” Annette muttered without thinking.

“Annie! How could you? We owe all our lives to Queen Byleth.”

“And what about Dimitri, who’s squirreled away Goddess knows where? And the citizens of Fhirdiad, who only now are overthrowing that woman?” Her piercing voice broke through the soft din of the party. Cyril looked over, guilt written all over his face. The queen as well, whose eyes showed some kind of emotion, for once. Felix pointedly looked away.

Annette let out a good-natured giggle, just how everyone expected of her. Cheerful Annette, always here to support her comrades, no matter the battle ahead. “Oops! That was a little too loud. Don’t mind me everyone! Just having a little chat with Mercie here.”

“Um, well, I think that’s enough of our party, wouldn’t you say, Ela?”

“My goodness, look at the time. You’re right, Thea. Let’s all say goodbye before we end up staying another night.”

While Dorothea and Manuela entangled every partygoer in their farewells, the queen floated over, barely making a sound. That’s what years of mercenary training did to you. It made you walk silent, all the time. Felix and Cyril trailed behind, but out of earshot.

“Annette. Is everything alright?” Although the queen was addressing the young warlock, her eyes were locked onto Mercie’s.

“Yup! Just dandy!” Annette’s face almost hurt from how hard she was smiling.

Mercie, who knew her best friend more than anyone, shook her head.

“Right. Annette, why don’t you come to my office at around dinner time? Let’s chat.”

“Always down for a chat professor! I mean, Your Majesty.”

The queen waved the formality away, and Annette felt truly adrift, like a snowflake in the ocean. She held onto Mercie for dear life, but the feeling didn’t fade.

“I’ll come with you Annie,” her best friend whispered into her ear. The queen, thankfully, did not hear, and was wandering back into her forest of followers, all of them as cold and impassive as pine trees at night. Annette couldn’t stand it, she wanted to leave, but this was the only home she knew. She leaned into Mercie, a warm reprieve in the darkness of the court of Derdriu.

* * *

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Mercie supplied, as though that were an option. No, no, Annette knew the rules of court, even though Derdriu was somewhat… unconventional. Observing how Ingrid spoke to Dimitri at The Academy made it clear that even if the ruler were a childhood friend, one still had to heed their bidding. “Queen Byleth isn’t like other rulers, you know.” Her pale-haired friend spoke gently, like a tether of feathers, wrapping around Annette.

The truth was the warlock wanted to speak to the queen. She wanted so badly to give her a piece of her mind. Why allocate relief funds to Derdriu, when the city was completely untouched? Why give the new Count Gloucester the time of day, when his county was known to be corrupt and poorly developed? Why hold a round-table conference with Imperials, when Faerghus was literally falling apart?

When she stepped into the queen’s office though, seeing her table piled with paperwork like snow in Pegasus Moon, every cutting question Annette wanted to ask fell away. Mercie’s hand gave hers a little squeeze, and the petite woman couldn’t help but be thankful that her friend was fine-tuned to her every thought, even after the months apart.

“Mercedes,” the queen glanced up, eyes focusing on the unexpected figure. “Come in, come in.” She made a move to stand but sat when her legs gave out. She gave a surprised little hum and smiled reassuringly at the two, as though her legs falling asleep were intentional.

“Oh, Professor! You mustn’t overwork yourself.” The bishop rushed over despite the queen’s feeble protests, to inspect her legs.

“They’ve fallen asleep, that’s all.” The queen gestured grandly at the mismatched chairs, “Please, sit. I’ll have dinner brought up shortly.”

“Thank you Professor. It’ll be so nice to dine together again.”

Annette knew she should say some other pleasantries, but frankly, having the option to dine with the queen on any night, she preferred to do without.

“Felix, you have the rest of the night off. I’d still like Balthus to report in at the evening bell, though.”

The stoic bodyguard bowed his head and left, giving Annette a look that reminded her of icicles melting in the sun. In return, she smiled brightly.

As soon as Felix left, Mercie and the queen were swept away in a conversation about the state of Garreg Mach and how Seteth was handling the role of Archbishop. Annette followed along, captivated by Mercie’s merry retelling. Listening to her friend talk was like listening to the first trickles of spring. Even when they were youngsters at the School of Sorcery, she found Mercie’s voice to be something of an anchor. She suspected the bishop found that to be true of her own cheerful demeanor. As the war dragged on, however, Annette found it more and more difficult to maintain what had always come so naturally to her. Her friend, however, seemed to have no such struggles.

“Now, Annette. Let’s address some of your concerns.” The queen turned her cool green eyes onto the warlock. Even though this was what she wanted, she found herself at a loss for words.

“I think Annie’s just a little on edge, since it’s been nearly half a year, and Fhirdiad is still not reclaimed.”

“I see.” The queens’ gaze was even, seeming not to register Mercie’s voice and waiting for Annette to answer.

“Yeah, Mercie’s pretty much right. It just doesn’t feel right to see the rest of the world going back to normal while former Faerghus… Well, it’s not looking so great.”

The queen sighed before speaking. “It was my mistake to not include you in our war meetings. I assumed you stayed in Derdriu to be away from it all.” Her inquisitive gaze burned into Annette’s, waiting for a response.

The warlock looked at her hands. “Well, yeah. That’s true, I guess.” Then her eyes shot up to meet the queen’s. “Wait, war meetings?”

“Yes.” Finally, those unflinching green eyes looked away.

“So… Are we reclaiming Fhirdiad?”

“Such plans are already underway. Sylvain and Ingrid have done an admirable job doing what Shamir usually does. Felix has been supplying our army with city layouts, politics, and Fraldarius soldiers.” The queen paused before meeting Annette’s eyes again. “Would you like to be a part of our meetings from now on?”

“Yes! Definitely, yes. Oh Professor, if I’d known that we were planning on taking back Fhirdiad, I would have—I wouldn’t be as upset as I am now.” She looked over at her best friend. “You leaving me in the dust didn’t help either, Mercie.”

A musical giggle came from the bishop as she responded, “Sorry Annie, I really didn’t expect to be so missed.”

The queen, however, looked like she just shrugged off some great demonic beast she’d been dragging around for hours.

“I’m sorry, Professor. I made a scene at the party this afternoon and made things difficult for you.”

“Not at all,” came the strained reply. “If anything, I’m berating myself for not realizing the cause of your stress.”

“You mean, you noticed that I wasn’t… feeling myself?”

“Of course. At first Cyril and I thought it was because Mercedes left without informing you.” She shot a glare at Mercie, who responded with a giggle. “But now I see that Felix was right, and it was about Faerghus and Cornelia all along.”

“Don’t even call her that! I bet that’s not the real Cornelia.”

“Most likely not.”

What the professor said gave her pause though. Felix knew why she was upset? That explained all his awkward attempts at conversation. The man was like a cat, used to being approached, but unsure how to approach a fellow brooder like himself. Thinking about this made Annette’s heart feel lighter, as though she were a sturdy pine tree, who was finally able to shake the heavy snow off her bough.

“I’m glad we had this talk.” The professor spoke. It felt a little out of place, as though she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say.

“Me too,” Mercie’s soft voice responded. “I’m also glad that we talked about it before dinner arrived!”

Right on cue, a servant with three sets of onion gratin soup on a trolley came in. It was the perfect dish for winter. Annette always remembered being warmed from the inside out whenever she ate it. Tonight, however, it wasn’t just the soup that warmed her. It was also the knowledge that the court at Derdriu cared about Annette enough to notice what she believed was a subtle change in demeanor. Suddenly, Derdriu didn’t seem quite as cold as she thought.


	9. Dorothea Arnault -- Cadence I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorothea and Manuela return to Derdriu after receiving worrying news.

By the time news reached Dorothea, it was already too late. Ela almost convinced her out of riding back on their quickest horses until she heard the route the Agarthans took to get to Derdriu. Then she was packing as quickly as she could and calling for their travel cloaks. The older songstress couldn’t stand the thought of her being safe in Enbarr while her former colleague was in danger.

“What would he think of me? I really would be as lazy and irresponsible as he always said I was.”

It would take them three days to ride from Enbarr to Derdriu, since they couldn’t go through the night or get a carriage on such short notice. The carriage that brought them here had just returned to Derdriu yesterday, so it was a little too late to play catch-up. And even though Dorothea knew that they were too late, that by the time they got there, all they would see was the aftermath, she just couldn’t stand the idea of doing nothing while her friends could be hurt or worse.

They rode most of the afternoon, through Hresvelg territory, which was covered with the purest veil of snow. Dorothea wondered briefly if Edelgard was okay, before she remembered that Edie was gone. It was a hard transition to get used to, the idea of a good friend being… well, not on their side. Ela pressed a hand into hers.

“She’s in a better place now. We took care of the Agarthans, and that’s the important part.” The former physician’s words couldn’t cure Dorothea’s heartache, but it did help a bit to know that one of Edie’s main goals was carried out. The girl didn’t have long to live anyway. She knew Edie would be at peace.

They arrived at the ruins of Fort Merceus far into the night. Dorothea wanted to push on into Aegir. Maybe they could get a carriage there. But it would be an unnecessary pit-stop, pretty out of the way. Knowing Ferdie, he probably already rode out to Derdriu on his fastest horse as soon as he got the news, which meant it wasn’t likely they’d get any sort of welcome anyway. Dorothea and Manuela spent the night in the shelter of ruined walls, walls that were so close to bringing the Alliance army to a fiery end.

“You know, I never knew such destruction was possible.” Ela started. “I was so scared, so worried for everyone. I was especially worried for you, you know. Out there without me.”

“Oh Ela, don’t be silly. We were… Everything was fine in the end. There’s no use in worrying about the past.”

“I know. I just couldn’t help but think… How close I was to losing you.”

“Oh yeah? You weren’t worried about the professor? Or—” Ela cut her off with a kiss. How rude.

“All I could think about was you, Thea.”

“Even then?”

“Especially then! We had just, well, you know…”

“So shy all of a sudden!”

“You know I’ve never been with a woman…”

“I know, sorry for teasing you, Ela.”

“Usually it’s the other way around.”

Both of them skirted what they truly wanted to talk about. But there was no point. The battle likely already passed by now, and there was no use in worrying about the past.

The two set off with the rising the sun, shaking off snow turning sticky in the morning rays and the numbness that came with sleeping on a hard surface.

“I’ve almost forgotten what that felt like.” Dorothea muttered, which Ela took as an opportunity to gloat that the physician’s tent was much comfier, and if only Dorothea had spent more time on her faith magic.

Dorothea was good at faith magic. It took a little getting used to, but the flow of healing spells was like music coming out of her fingertips, if that made sense. She just didn’t like to be waddling through a crowded tent filled with bandages, blood, and four excellent healers who really didn’t need another body to get in their way.

By noon, they had reached the Bergliez’s second estate. It was a grand old thing, and Dorothea couldn’t imagine Caspie living in it. Merceus she could accept, since it was a war fortress. But an ornate stately building like that, surrounded by well-trimmed hedges? How could her little bro ever run around in there?

As they began to ride through Gronder Field, a farmer waving fervently at them caught Dorothea’s eye.

“Let’s go see what he wants. Maybe he needs our help.”

Ela nodded and followed.

“Oy, you two! Don’t go ridin’ through that field. It’s uneven from battle. Take the road around ‘less you wanna hurt your horses.”

“Thank you!” Ela called.

“This is going to take so much longer.” Dorothea lamented.

Ela grimaced in response.

It took far longer to reach the Airmid River than it should have, and that backwater road led to a less than desirable location on the river.

“Where’s Myrddin?” Dorothea’s voice was instantly taken away by the wind.

“Further downstream. You can see the Hrym mountains over there.” An elegant finger pointed to their right, far to some barely visible peaks.

“That’s not good.” The younger songstress paused. “Do you suppose… Since they passed through Myrddin, do you think people are hurt?”

Ela gave her a look, and Dorothea didn’t push it. They had left Derdriu because it seemed everything was finally falling into place. The army was supposed to take back Fhirdiad. Dorothea made sure that her Faerghus friends were on board before she left, not interested in battle herself. But it seemed battle would follow her everywhere. During the war, Ela was so fond of saying that one day the war would end. But Dorothea knew that war always raged on. In this case, it found its way to her former professor. Although the gremory knew that the queen could hold her own, just hearing the sheer number of forces… Thousands of Imperial soldiers gathered secretly and hundreds of Agarthans joining them from the remains of Shambhala. At their helm, the dreaded Death Knight. Just thinking about him sent a shiver down Dorothea’s spine. They had dispatched him in Enbarr, Dorothea was sure of it. She saw him fall. But somehow, that grim spectre came back from the dead.

It seemed Ela was thinking the same thing, shivering into her own fur cloak. “Thea, once we get to Myrddin, we’ll probably have news of what happened at Derdriu.”

Dorothea nodded. She was worried about the queen, but she was more worried about Fefe. He was her bodyguard. He was sure to throw himself into harm’s way for his queen. All her other friends she was less concerned. Bern had no reason to get herself entangled, and even if she did, Yurikins would keep her safe. Hanneman and Lorenz were along the way, so they could be in trouble, but the likelihood was low, no matter how lowly Ela thought of her former colleague.

“I’m sure… Byleth is very strong. She has the goddess on her side.”

“Literally!” Dorothea forced out a laugh that devolved into a cough.

“Oh, that’s not good. Let’s set up camp.”

Camp was significantly more difficult to set up when there was no windbreak anywhere. Dorothea had half a mind to ride straight to Myrddin. But if the bridge was in ruins, then they needed to be well-rested to defend it or help whoever was hurt.

With heavy hearts and heavier limbs, Dorothea and Ela made camp against a sturdy tree, hoping against hope that whatever news they received tomorrow would be good.


	10. Dorothea Arnault -- Cadence II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorothea wraps up the first set of short fictions with an epiphany.

When Dorothea awoke, she felt an itchiness in her throat, which was a bad sign for any singer. Ela had managed to get a fire started and was brewing some honeyed tea.

“Good morning, darling.” A warm kiss was planted on her cheek, and the gremory leaned into it, letting it comfort her for a moment.

“Thanks for the tea, Ela. My throat’s not feeling great.”

“You had a coughing fit in the middle of the night, did you know that?”

Dorothea frowned. She was not getting sick. No matter what, she was not getting sick.

“This may not help, but a little healing never hurt anyone.” Ela leaned in, the warm flow of her magic touching her neck and her chest.

“Thanks.” Then Dorothea groaned. “I’m such a mess. I wouldn’t be of help to anyone. I’m about to get sick, and I’m fretting about others!”

“That’s just like you, dear.” Ela stated dryly, then pressed another kiss on her cheek. “You know, I always thought women like us would just live the rest of our days alone, like spinsters. We’re loved on the stage but out of the spotlight? No one would want us.” The older songstress stood and began packing up. Dorothea followed suit.

“Well, we found each other didn’t we? And we don’t need any man to be happy.” A little giggle punctuated the very line that she’d used to proposition Ela in the first place.

“No, we don’t.” The physician took an extra sweater she’d brought and wrapped it around Dorothea’s neck. “That should do the trick.”

“I think more tea would do the trick.”

“Don’t sigh so much, dear. It’s unbecoming. Plus, it’s bad for your throat.”

“You’re not my mentor anymore, Ela. And you can drop that bad for the throat thing. You sigh all the time.”

“Yes, after I retired from being a songstress.”

Dorothea muttered in response, “You still sigh all the time.”

Ela helped the gremory onto her horse after the two secured their belongings and began the ride to Myrddin.

When they arrived at the great bridge, they could tell it had been stormed. The gates were burned through, and arrows were still sticking out of the brick walls. It was eerily silent, which was a bad omen.

“Hello?” Ela called out. “We’re travellers from Enbarr, wanting to cross.”

“Ela, that sounds horrible.” Dorothea called out another identifier. “We’re Dorothea Arnault and Manuela Cassagranda. We fought with the queen during the War of Unification. We’re passing through to Derdriu to assist with… relief efforts?” That wasn’t a great way to end the greeting, but it was better than making the guards think more enemy reinforcements were heading through.

A wary guard peeked his face out and waved them in. The fortress was not in good condition. There was blood and a winged demonic beast still splayed out in the middle of the courtyard. Everyone injured had been cleared away, though there were knights being trained in a corner of the large open space. A familiar orange-haired figure was sitting on a horse in their midst.

“Ferdie?”

“Dorothea! Manuela! It is truly a pleasure to see the two of you!” A flash of discomfort crossed Ferdie’s face as he corrected himself. “Present circumstances notwithstanding, of course.” He took one look at Dorothea’s face and dismounted immediately. “Dorothea, you do not look well. Please, allow me to show you to a room. I assure you, the fortress is safe.”

“I’m fine, Ferdie.” Dorothea snapped, more forceful than she intended to.

“O-of course.”

“I’m sorry Ferdie, I just… I need to know that everyone’s okay. Have you got news?” The two songstresses dismounted as well, Ela taking the reins from Dorothea so she could speak more comfortably with her former schoolmate.

“The queen is well. To be honest, I just arrived here yesterday and have been setting up a line of defence with my knights. I have been… far too preoccupied to listen to the news.”

Dorothea knew she visibly deflated. She was also so ashamed. While Ferdie was busy figuring out how to keep Myrddin safe, she was merely seeking comfort and the opportunity to alleviate her guilt.

“That being said, the news itself was… confusing at best. Derdriu hasn’t sent out an official statement, though if they did I have not had time to hear it. As the Imperial forces and Those Who Slither in the Dark arrived, an army of wyvern riders –presumably Almyran forces—arrived as well. Whether they were friend or foe it is still unclear. The queen was seen by an eye witness though, and she looked well. Tired, but well.”

The songstresses both sighed in relief.

Ela, looking as though colour was returning to her face, addressed Ferdie. “Ferdinand, I understand your desire to do all you can for our country but listening to news is actually helpful. If you don’t know what’s going on, you can’t prepare properly. Besides, you’re the highest rank official in this fortress. You should be leading, not down in the trenches with your head in the mud.”

The great knight did not seem happy to hear that. Dorothea amended Ela’s harsher words. “Ferdie, what you’re doing is great, and so admirable. I wish I could be as useful as you. But given present circumstances, Ela is right.” She met her partner’s eyes and saw her nod. “Your duty is to see the big picture, so everyone knows what to do. I know you don’t want to seem like a noble who won’t get his hands dirty. I know that. These soldiers know it too, especially your knights.”

“You are right of course, professor and Dorothea. I suppose, hearing the news, I was in shock and spurred to action right away.” Ferdie looked down guiltily, then turned to address his astral knights. It appeared lunch was being served. The great knight asked Dorothea and Ela to join him, his sunny smile back on his face. It could be the stress of not knowing just what was going on, but Ferdie’s smile wasn’t the same smile Dorothea knew during their Academy days or during the war. They left soon after, though not before Ferdie forced Dorothea to down a warm watery soup and to have a sit-down by the fire in the great hall.

It took them hours to ride through the fields of Gloucester. Thankfully, it was well-paved and the roads were straight-forward, instead of the winding and confusing packed dirt that was Gronder. It took about the same time to cross through though, that’s how big Gloucester was. They passed by Lorenz’s estate which, aside from two guards falling asleep in their boots, was completely empty. Ela stopped to ask them of news, and the only response was that the count and his Gloucester Knights had ridden to Derdriu two days ago. It appeared Count Gloucester was hoping to execute a pincer attack by following from the rear of Agarthan forces, knowing that he couldn’t outride them. There was a few more hours of daylight, so the two women went on their way to Riegan.

“We’ll have to stop there for the night.” Ela spoke softly.

“Ela, I’m fine. After having soup and a proper sit-down, I can keep going.”

“You may be fine, but I’m not. I’ll need a warm bath and a soft bed before I’m ready to ride in the morning.” Her lie was transparent, but Dorothea accepted it. She had been pushing herself too hard, and the stress was affecting her more than it was affecting Ela.

When they arrived in Riegan, the manor was strangely empty. Even the guards seemed to have left their post. The hedges and the lawns looked well-maintained, so it couldn’t have been abandoned.

“Claude did leave Fódlan for Almyra.” Ela supplied. “Maybe his staff went with him?”

Dorothea shook her head. “Four months is a long time. The manor looks… nice.”

“You’re right.”

The gates were locked, unfortunately, and riding back to Gloucester seemed pointless. It appeared they would spend another night in the cold.

“We could push on to Derdriu. If Ferdinand was right, and Almyran forces came, that should have bolstered the army at Derdriu enough to drive back Imperials.”

“I’m tired as an old dog. As much as I want to, I can’t go on.”

Ela’s face softened and she dismounted to make camp. Thankfully, the walls around the manor made good shelter for the two, unlike the bare open plains of Gronder.

* * *

When they arrived in Derdriu, what greeted them wasn’t the sight of a ruined city, but masses of Imperials and some Agarthans being organized to be carted off to prison and work camps. Claude was there, with a ring of Almyrans around him, speaking a fluid foreign tongue. Professor Byleth was there was well, softly conferring with her ministers, listening more than she was commanding. It was with great relief that Dorothea caught a glimpse of Fefe, Sylvie, and Ingrid, walking side-by-side, shoulders brushing and hands touching.

Dorothea smiled at Ela, reaching out her hand. They linked hands for a moment, basking in the relief that washed over them now. As they rode toward the city gates, a black horse galloped towards them, barring the way.

“Halt,” Lorenz spoke, severity masking his face. “Names?”

“Uh… Lorie? It’s just us, Dorothea and Ela.”

The dark knight let out a sigh of relief. “Oh thank goodness. We’re so sick of imposters coming through. Duke Aegir joined me on my way to Derdriu, but it wasn’t until partway through the battle did I realize it was an Agarthan in disguise.”

Dorothea thought back to the Ferdie they saw in Myrddin. Surely that was the real Ferdie?

“Frankly, you should have known better,” Ela chided. “How could Ferdinand get news to Derdriu, much less ride out to you in such a short amount of time?”

Lorenz heaved a great, dramatic sigh. “You are right, of course. I was a fool to be taken in by orange locks alone. Thankfully, Leonie came to my rescue.”

The Sauin huntress was gathered with the rest of the Golden Deer, minus Claude. Cyril was there as well, a protective arm wrapped around Lysithea’s waist.

“Oh, forgive me. I should be helping you ladies down and offering tea.”

“I’d be more interested in reading your poetry.” Ela sing-songed.

“Please! I do not—Please do not ask that of me.” Lorenz looked so absolutely defeated that Dorothea couldn’t help but letting a giggle escape. It was partially the nerves too, or rather, finally letting them relax.

After a bit more chitchat, Dorothea was anxious to speak to her friends from the Blue Lions. She excused herself with a kiss to Ela, which was received with shock from Lorenz, who admitted that he was planning on asking for her hand in marriage later but was hastily followed with many a congratulations. Ela, in turn, was far too amused and teased whether Lorenz would write some fine poetry from this colossal disappointment. Dorothea didn’t linger further, instead hastening to her knightly friends.

“Dorothea!” Ingrid’s pleasantly raspy voice greeted her. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Nor I.” The songstress in question responded. She gave Ingrid a deep hug, kissing her once on each cheek, as was the custom in Enbarr, forgetting already that she wasn’t meeting with stage directors and actors, but with a fierce Faerghus warrior. Ingrid responded in kind, probably after brushing up on her diplomacy as the heir of Galatea.

“What are you doing here.” Fefe spat, though not without warmth.

“Hey, is that any way to greet a beautiful woman such as the Mystical Songstress of Enbarr? Speaking of, O Mystical Songstress, where are my kisses?” Sylvie offered his cheek to Dorothea, which she greeted with a gentle pat.

“I’m so glad you’re all safe. Ela and I were worried sick on the way here.”

“You rode all the way back? What a waste of time.”

“That reminds me!” Dorothea smoothly cut off whatever acrid remark Fefe was about to lay on her next. “How was taking back Fhirdiad? I assume it went smoothly?”

“You assume wrong,” Ingrid responded with a sigh. She leaned into Sylvie’s arm as though she’d been leaning there all her life.

“The castle was empty. Nobody home. I guess it makes sense in hindsight. They probably drew away their forces to attack Derdriu.” Sylvie’s reply came casually. A little too casually. Dorothea knew how much it was killing him inside. The whole plan was his idea, and he must blame himself for the failure it was.

“No one could have known.” The gremory offered.

“I should have known!” Hazel eyes flashed in agitation. “I was organizing everything! The spies, the underground gatherings! Something must have slipped my attention. All of this…”

Even though Dorothea was speaking for no one but herself, she put a hand out to Sylvie. “No one blames you.”

“I know, I know, I just…”

Ingrid’s lean into Sylvie became a possessive pull. She gave Dorothea a terse smile and led him away. The songstress tried to follow them with her eyes, but they disappeared in the crowd, the tents, and the carriages quickly.

“Are you staying for the wedding?” Fefe was as blunt as ever, changing the subject without missing a beat.

“What wedding, Fefe? Did I miss a sparkling romance between you and a paramour?”

“Quit it with that nickname.” He was blushing furiously though, so Dorothea knew she was in the clear. “The queen and Claude.”

“Wow, that’s quick. Didn’t Claude just get back?”

“Yeah, and he has to go back soon too. So they figured they’d save time.”

“That’s… romantic.”

“Tch. No one has time for romance except you and that mentor of yours.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, gallivanting back to Enbarr while all this shit is happening?”

“We’re trying to start our opera troupe again.” The songstress replied hotly. “Everyone has something they care about. Just because I don’t care about the same things as you doesn’t mean I’m gallivanting about.”

Felix’s face turned sour as he looked away. “You staying for the wedding or not?”

“I don’t know, when is it?” Dorothea checked her nails.

“In a fortnight.”

“A fortnight! That’s not enough time!”

“Again, nobody cares about the bloody wedding. Except you I guess.”

Dorothea appraised Fefe carefully. He was upset about something, and it had nothing to do with the songstresses leaving, or even about the battle that just passed, from which he looked surprisingly unscathed. “What’s really bothering you, Fefe? Or are you upset that Claude stole your thunder, protecting his fiancée the way he did?”

Fefe bristled at that. Ouch, she hit the mark a little too close. “I should have been here. Instead I was in goddessforsaken Fhirdiad, taking back the boar’s fucking city, when no one was even there!” The mortal savant’s voice had a way of carrying, which stopped the work people was doing around them. Ashe looked over and gave a small smile before scurrying off with Dedue and a large pot of soup.

When Fefe was done huffing, Dorothea spoke. “I see.” After another awkward pause, she spoke again. “I’m sorry Fefe. I didn’t think about how difficult that must have been for you.”

“I should be sorry. The queen always told me my temper would push away the people who mattered the most to me.”

The gremory smiled at that.

“Not that I—”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waved it off, and Fefe seemed glad for it. “Now about this wedding! Who’s making the dress, who’s planning the décor, where are they going for the honeymoon? Tell me everything!”

Fefe’s face fought for control of his scowl, but it turned into a smile against his will. They fell into their familiar cadences, with the mortal savant all sharp and angular while the gremory accommodated fluidly for his every mood. Their friends were safe, and another celebration was on the horizon. Dorothea couldn’t help but hope that the rest of their lives could follow this rhythm, filled with love and closeness and everything familiar. For a moment, enraptured by her conversation with an old friend, Dorothea let herself believe that was possible. Maybe someday, the war really will end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like the first set of stories in this series was a bit all over the place, so I'll try to have a central theme in the next one.


End file.
